


Housewarming

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, RPF, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://amelodysosweet.tumblr.com/">amelodysosweet</a>.  Not exactly what you described, but…  </p><p>Workout sex ahoy!  Will comes home to find Chris on the treadmill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Housewarming

When Will moves in, the treadmill in Chris' spare room is covered with three jackets and an assortment of out-of-season scarves and gloves. It's obvious just how long the thing hasn't been used, if it ever was.

They haven't bought a membership for Will at the local gym where Chris has his, so Will is interested in clearing it off and using it, at least for the next week or so until he can decide whether he likes Chris' gym or wants to shop around.

When he asks if it's okay if he puts away the clothing hanging on it Chris shrugs and nods at the same time, in that weird semi-awkward way that he has so many times since they decided to move in together. The process has been just as enjoyable as uncomfortable for them both--Will is open to sharing, craves it as a necessary part of loving someone, whereas Chris wants to be open but struggles with it.

Still, despite that, Chris says yes. Will clears the treadmill off, dusts it, makes sure that it won't burst into mechanical flames with his ass on it, and uses it in between jogs of work and phone calls when Chris isn't home. It's nice to be able to work out a fair distance away from where he works--his shoe box apartment hadn't afforded him that luxury.

But he does get that gym membership a few weeks later.

"You can use it, now, though, if you want," he says to Chris. "I know you hate working out in front of people."

Chris wavers in his dedication to their couples' work-out routine. Will thinks it's adorable (even more so when he realized that if he disguised exercise as hiking or exploring nature he could get Chris to do pretty much anything).

He doesn't really expect Chris to use it but he comes home one day in between assignments to the noise of the belt whirring and Chris panting heavily.

There's a sweat-soaked tank top on the floor next to the treadmill and Chris is running in place, arms up and moving, thighs flexing, sweat pouring down his body. His socks are limp inside of his running shoes, and the loose black shorts he's wearing are riding dangerously low on his sharp hips.

Will stands in the doorway to the spare room, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.

This doesn't stop Chris from continuing to run. He takes the iPod bud from his left ear. Will can hear the music blaring as he pants, "I. Hate. Running."

He wets his lips, eyes drifting down Chris' soaked, willowy body. "Not having fun?"

"When is this ever fun?" Chris growls, sneakers slamming down again and again. "Please do not tell me about how you love working out; it might make me rethink this entire relationship."

Will laughs. "You win this round. Hang on." He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of water, handing it off to Chris without interrupting his rhythm. "You're doing great. You look amazing. I love you." That last is bit of a reach, but generally it gets him everywhere.

Chris does wilt just a little at the endearment--he is learning how to accept emotional exchanges without rolling his eyes and smirking now, at least. His spiky edges are something that Will adores, though; Will isn't interested in changing him at all. He'll take the organic shifts in Chris' mood swings over forced emotional re-conditioning any day. 

Thoughtfulness achieved, he allows his gaze to fix on the droplets of sweat sliding down Chris' thin, wiry chest and flat, still soft belly. The moisture clings to the hair at the center of his chest, then glides down his ribs where he's less hairy, and finally clings to the hair that runs from his bellybutton down into the waistband of his shorts.

Will swallows thickly. "How long have you been at that pace?"

"Half an hour?"

"You could take a break," he offers, licking his bottom lip again. He follows the path of a solitary bead of sweat tripping down the side of Chris' neck; it splashes against his shoulder and breaks into smaller droplets, pattering down along his upper arm.

"You're home for the day?" Chris asks. For the first time since Will came into the room he seems to be putting two and two together, and there's a warm curiosity in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"I have an appointment in an hour but it's local, thank god," Will answers, trailing his fingers along the treadmill buttons. "Take a break?" He raises his eyes to Chris'.

Chris hits the appropriate buttons to slow the treadmill down, down, and down, jogging it out until he's comfortably able to stop without pulling something. He loops a towel around his shoulders and wipes the worst of the sweat off of his face and neck.

"Let me take a quick shower and we can eat lunch," he says, working his shoes and socks off. He sets his iPod aside.

"Or you could not," Will drawls, putting his hands on Chris' hips from behind, sinking his fingers into the damp elastic waistband of his shorts and tugging him back against his chest.

"Don't, I'm all sweaty," Chris protests (Will is in his work clothes and they are somewhat delicate).

When Will replies his voice is low and scratchy. "Don't care." He buries his face in the damp hair at the back of Chris' neck and inhales. "God, you have no idea how hot you look right now." Even the smell of clean sweat is too much. "Come here."

"Oh my god, I am disgusting right now," Chris breathes, going still as Will's fingers trace his hip bones.

Will looms above Chris' head, using the slight height difference between them to wrap himself effectively around Chris' shoulders and upper arms. "Mmm, shut up, you are not." He kisses along the curve of one shoulder, licking salty-sharp sweat as he goes, sliding his right hand down the front of Chris' shorts where he finds him stirring, just a little thicker than usual. "Time enough to take care of you."

Chris is sensitive about a lot of things in regards to sex, mostly about it going one way, especially his way. They're working on that, but he still tenses at the suggestion.

Will kisses his earlobe, letting him feel just how interested Will is by pressing close. "Come on, sweetheart, let me make you feel good." Turning on the charm certainly can't hurt. Sometimes, if the mood is right, turning on the dirty talk works, too, so he goes all in and adds, "Want you in my mouth so bad, want to taste you all sweaty and hot."

Chris shivers in his arms, head rolling back against his shoulder. Will knows he's going to give in before he does; the looseness in his body all of the sudden is easy to read.

"Bedroom?" Chris asks, voice gone an octave higher than usual.

"Nah," Will replies, kissing his neck all the way to the nearest wall where he turns Chris in his arms and presses him back into the paneling. He grins, wild and sweet, and presses their mouths together. "Right here. Wouldn't want to stress your calves too much." He knows he looks silly in his khakis and crisp dress shirt, and knows that sinking to his knees in this outfit isn't a good idea. But he can't bring himself to care. He wants at Chris' body too much to fuss with his own clothing right now.

And when he does it, sliding down slowly, dragging his fingertips and lips through paths of sweat and drenched pale, freckled skin and hair, and Chris inhales through his teeth and his face goes blotchy red, it's worth every possibility that he might wreck his pants.

Chris is half-mast in his shorts now, one hand lightly resting on the back of Will's neck. It doesn't take much to get him all the way there, just one hand rubbing him through the material, a few passes of warm kisses, embarrassment or concern melting away as he lets it happen. 

God, he smells so strong, clean and masculine, and Will breathes him in, not taking him out of his shorts until he's tenting them.

"God, Will--"

"So fucking sexy, and all mine," he murmurs, licking his way from hip bone to hip bone, dipping the tip of his tongue into Chris' navel and back out again while his fist closes around Chris' cock, stroking it. "Smell so good, baby."

It's only when he licks a broad stripe over the head that Chris drops his mouth open and hisses out a sharp, "Fuck."

Noise making is another thing they're working on.

He folds a hand around Chris' left cheek and tugs him in, sucking the head of his cock and then swallowing down around him. He inhales loudly again, shoulders flexing into the wall and hips twitching forward.

It's wet, and not just from Will's spit; he slurps loud around Chris' cock and has to stop several times to wipe off his hands because they keep sliding down Chris' damp skin, but in the end he has a rhythm going, has Chris' dick swollen and hard and fucking his mouth, shorts around his ankles.

Chris' belly and chest and arms flex with every pass, with every quick breath, and before long he's writhing his pelvis in slow waves, pushing himself into Will's hand and mouth at an orgasm-chasing clip.

He slides his fingers through Will's hair, gently tugging. "Don't--don't stop."

"Close?" Will lashes the head with his tongue before taking the shaft into his mouth again.

"Y-yeah, just--just--like that, shit."

From there it's just an increasing tempo of wet noise and Will's head bobbing, bobbing, bobbing, Chris' fingers twisted in his hair.

"I'm--"

"Yeah, come on." He tries to pull back but Will digs his fingers into his ass cheeks and holds on. "No, don't. Come in my mouth."

"Shit," Chris hisses, falling apart at the request with a sudden thrill of tension that whiplashes up his spine and sends his hips forward. Will can feel his ass muscles clench up as he spurts. 

Fuck, the way he comes. The way he moves when he comes, the way he looks, sounds--it's almost too much. Will can feel himself throb in his pants.

Will swallows neatly, tongue lapping the slit for more, lips closing around the head and pulling back to encourage every drop forward.

Chris' face is tilted upward, eyes closed, so red that it's almost comical, chest heaving. His nipples are hard and his belly covered in goosebumps. He huffs out a breath, sucks in a breath, smiling suddenly and testing his knees. "God--that was incredible."

Will rises with a parting kiss to the head of Chris' cock. "You are incredible," he counters, kissing Chris' flushed, trembling mouth.

"I could return the favor?" Chris ventures, looking a little skittish as he traces the line of shiny, smooth buttons on Will's dress shirt one by one, all the way to his belt. 

"I could make a joke about the importance of eating protein after a workout, but--"

Chris snorts, rolls his eyes, then hooks a finger behind Will's belt buckle and tugs. "Shut up and take off your pants, Sherrod."


End file.
